Coffee and Bagels
by Tonkswyrda
Summary: Remus doesnt want to leave the house now that war is official and Tonks is pregnant, and it's not because he's worried for her safety.


She hadn't left the house, except for work, in days. He hadn't left the house at all, and frankly, Tonks how no idea how he hadn't gone crazy yet.

They both knew she could lose her job any day now. Even if they didn't suspect her of being a member of the order (although she knew they must, how could they not after the fiasco that was Bill and Fleur's wedding?) she was married to a werewolf, and that would be reason enough when the time came to get rid of her.

She knew Remus felt guilty about that.

But she was terrified of being locked inside the house all day, unable to go out anywhere in case they were attacked, unable to visit anyone in the Order in case they were being followed.  
>Remus seemed to be taking it all in his stride- he had enough books to keep him sane, and she'd often come home to the smell of fresh, still warm from the oven baking. That was Remus though- he'd been unemployed for so long, she was sure he knew enough ways to keep himself busy. She, on the other hand, hated being stuck in one place for too long. Well, being forced to be there anyway. She liked action, the fast pace that being an auror entailed. She just knew, that if she sat here for too long, she was going to go insane.<p>

It might be slightly easier to cope if Remus would talk to her. Or even just put an arm around her. She glanced sideways at him. Sitting on the other side of the couch, leaving a large gap between them. He'd moved over when she sat down. He'd been silently reading since dinner- and he was only speaking to her when it was necessary.

She had a sneaking suspicion he was entirely unhappy with her current predicament.

She sighed.

Pregnant. It hadn't been planned. Neither of them had expected it, and Tonks knew that Remus had never wanted children; purely because he was terrified his condition might be hereditary. She wasn't worried on that front- she'd done an embarrassing amount of research on werewolves when she'd first realized she liked him more than one liked ones friends. But her reassurance wasn't enough for him, and she was worried that he might do something stupid.

She'd known him to do stupid things before.

She picked up the TV remote. Cliked. Nothing interesting on that channel. Clicked again. Talk back show. Clicked again. Cooking show. Clicked again. Crime show. Clicked again. Horror film. Clicked again. Cartoons. Sighing, she flicked it off. She could feel Remus' annoyance at her having interrupted the quiet, so she tossed the remote back on the coffee table.

"Do you want to go out tonight?"

His eyes moved up from his book to rest on her face, but only for a split second.

He turned a page.

"We could catch a movie? Or just get out for a bit… go get a coffee… and bagels! There's that late night café a few blocks down…"

He closed his book, looking at her again. Any hope she'd had of the two of them going out, even for a little bit, deflated under his blank stare.

He turned back to his book.

"I don't really feel like going out tonight."

"But you said that last night too." Angry, she crossed her arms. "And the night before that."

"I never said you couldn't go out."

"But I want to go out with you." She paused. "That's what married couples do. They go out together, even if it's just a stupid walk to the coffee shop."

"Not in the middle of a war they don't. Especially when one of them is pregnant." She saw him eye her stomach resentfully.

"Is that what this is all about? You don't want to be seen with me when I'm pregnant?"

"It's not that. You shouldn't be seen with me when you're-"

She rolled her eyes. "I thought we got past caring what other people thought of us. You said you didn't care-"

"That was before you got pregnant!"

"So now I'm having your child, everything changes?"

"Yes everything changes!"

"Because it won't look ten times worse if I'm by myself? People won t assume that I'm some kind of whore-"

"NO ONE would think that." On this point at least, his voice was firm.

She didn't reply. She couldn't believe he was still going on like this. He had promised they would be okay, that he was okay with it. He obviously was not okay. He didn't even want to be seen in public with her anymore.

"If you want to go out and get a coffee, I'm not going to stop you."

He looked fully absorbed by his book, but he was frowning and distracted, and looked pale.

Good. She hoped he felt bad, because if they had an argument like this again, she was bound to get over emotional and cry. All she really wanted was for him to hold her, to kiss her, to want to be in the same room as her.

"Fine." She stood. "Fine. I'll go out, by myself, in the dark. Fine then."

He didn't move, or look up.

She picked up her jacket, shrugging it on. "Fine. Fine. Don't mind me then. Fine. I'll see you later."

"Goodbye, Nympha-"

She slammed the door behind her.

Walking was good, because it gave her time to cool down. She hadn't meant to get so angry at him- but he wasn't doing anything to help. He hated their child already, and she knew he would go crazy with worry at the next full moon, and only end up hurting himself. And that wouldn't help anything.

She bought two coffees, and two bagels, because she felt bad about yelling at him, and she wanted to apologize. She wanted him to apologize too. Not to mention if it was the other way round, she would have been even angrier if he'd come home with a cream cheese bagel for himself and not for her. Not that Remus was so thoughtless.

The light was still on downstairs when she got back, but he had moved. His book was sitting on the arm of the couch. Putting her half drunken coffee and his full one on the table with his bagel, she headed upstairs, nibbling on her own.

He wasn't in the spare bedroom, which was full of her unpacked boxes and stacks of books. The bathroom door was open; he wasn't in there. Neither was he in the smallest room that he called a study and she called a closet.

There was a small, anxious pit growing in her stomach, but she ignored it, filling it with bagel.

The bedroom was empty too. She glanced around, walking to the window, peering into the back garden. All was silent.

Her heart was hammering wildly in her chest as she refused to admit what had most likely happened. She glanced around again before turning back to the window- but then looked back slower, her heart sinking as she caught, in the corner of her eye, a small white square that she had missed before.

She didn't even notice her bagel roll out of her hand and hit the floor as she flitted to the bed.

It was addressed to her. Her hands were shaking so badly, it took her a full minute to open it.

She knew what was coming, but it was still a shock to see it written out.

The first two words broke her heart, releasing all the tears she hadn't cried since the war had started, since all these terrible things had started to happen, since she'd told him she was pregnant and he'd changed.

_I cant._

She still refused to believe he was gone. Angrily, she pulled out drawer after drawer- but his clothes had all been emptied. His wand was gone. And possibly the worst, his wedding ring was sitting, a lonely golden beacon, on top of her diary, where he knew she would find it.

The ring fell to the floor with such a loud thud she thought the whole house might shatter around her. It was as if he had tried to remove every hint of himself that he could from her life.

He'd promised he wouldn't leave, he'd promised to stay, he'd told her he loved her, that he wanted to be with her… choking back tears, she read the note again.

_I'm not coming back. You'll both be better off without me. You could give it a father it won't always have to be ashamed of._

Angrily, she shoved it in her pocket.

She couldn't do this alone.

She was going to lose her job; she had no one to turn to anymore. She couldn't even go to her parents; her mother would just say "I told you so." And she hated being wrong.

She couldn't remember having fallen asleep when she awoke in the morning; reality crushed down on her like a rock when she realized it hadn't all been a terrible dream.

The cold coffees were still on the table; the bagel would be stale by now. The very sight of them made her sick.

She didn't know what to do with herself.

The only hope came by way of the washing basket, where she found one of his sweaters, cold in the early morning, but comfortable against her cheek, familiar and scratchy, and drenched in his smell.

Curling up on the couch, she clutched it to her, hoping beyond hope someone else would come and tell her what happened next, because she didn't know.

She didn't know what to do anymore.


End file.
